Through a Looking Glass Mind
by Scooter Kitty
Summary: Dick is in a coma and Babs must save him. It's kind of weird, kind of metaphysical. Basically, I wanted to give Babs the chance to kick some butt.


Standard disclaimer: I don't own them, DC Comics does (lucky bastards), I'm just borrowing them. Please, don't sue me. I don't have any money anyway.

Author's note: The inspiration for this story came from a book called "We Borrow the Earth" by Patrick Jasper Lee. The book is about Romany Shamanic healing practices. Let me just say that to save space and time, I greatly simplified the whole process. I also applied it in such way that I'm not sure it could be applied. But, hey, it's just fiction, so who cares, right? Anyway, if anyone is interested in exploring this topic, I recommend the book.

2/17/02

THROUGH A LOOKING-GLASS MIND 

It was the call that Barbara Gordon, also known throughout the superhero circuit as the mysterious Oracle, had been dreading the most. Batman's voice was infuriatingly calm as he called in that he would need Leslie Thompkins waiting for him at the batcave. Something had gone wrong with the mission. Nightwing was unconscious and Batman could not rouse him. He gave Barbara his ETA and signed off. He gave no explanation, no details, nothing. Barbara wanted to scream.

Instead she buried her emotions, as the dark-suited man had always admonished her to do, and made the call to the elderly physician, one of the privileged few who knew the Dark Knight's true identity. When she finished with the call, she contacted Black Canary, her own personal field agent and advised her that she was going to be "out of the office" for a while on bat-business, and not to be concerned if she couldn't be reached for a few days.

Locking up her workstations, she wheeled her chair around and made her way down to the basement of her building, where her specially modified Hummer was waiting. The traffic was heavy and it seemed to take forever for her to make it to the outskirts of Gotham where the newly rebuilt Wayne Manor was located. Bypassing the gated driveway, she drove around to the secret entrance that led directly to the Batcave.

The Batmobile was already parked in its designated spot and just on the other side of it, she noticed Dr. Thompkins' dark blue Volvo. Using the hydraulic lift to exit the Hummer, Barbara wheeled over to the cave's small, but sophisticated, medical bay. She found Leslie, Bruce, and Alfred gathered around one of the medical beds. Lying on the bed, she could only see the lower half of a black-clothed body past the backs of the others. Hearing her approach, Bruce turned to look at her.

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

Barbara fought to keep her temper in check. "I came to see how he was doing, since you didn't tell me anything. What happened?"

Three days ago, Batman had learned that Jonathon Crane, the mad former psychology professor at Gotham State University, also known as The Scarecrow, had managed to break out of Arkham Asylum. The Dark Knight had also learned that Crane had created a new formula that could tap into, not just a person's fear centers, but the deepest part of their subconsciousness, as well. Earlier that night Batman had tracked the scientist to Gotham's warehouse district and he and Nightwing had gone to apprehend him. What had gone so terribly wrong?

"I don't really know," Bruce answered her. "Dick and I got separated. Evidently Crane found him before I did. When I did find them, Dick was in exactly the state that he is now. I don't know what Crane did to him."

"Well, where is Crane now? Make him tell us what he did!"

"I'm afraid Dr. Crane is not in any condition to answer questions right now," Bruce said grimly. "He's going to be in the Arkham infirmary for quite some time."

"Oh… I see… So, what exactly, is Dick's condition?"

"He's comatose. He has no visible, physical wounds and yet, we can't seem to rouse him."

"Leslie?" Barbara asked, turning to the doctor for a more helpful diagnosis.

The small, elderly woman seemed uncomfortable, suddenly looking very frail and ancient.

"I'm sorry, Barbara, I don't know what to do, but I'm still working on it. We'll figure this thing out," she said firmly. "We'll get him through this."

Nodding, Barbara started to move her chair closer to the bed, but Bruce stepped in front of her, blocking her.

"Barbara, why don't you go on back to the tower," he said gently. "You don't have any medical training and you'd just be in the way here. Maybe, back at the tower, you could do some research and make yourself more useful."

"What! How dare y-."

"Miss Gordon, why don't we go upstairs?" Alfred said, smoothly interjecting himself into the conversation that was in imminent danger of becoming a heated argument. "I'll make you some nice tea and we can have ourselves a little chat."

Without waiting for her to give him permission, the elderly British butler grasped the back of her wheelchair and began pushing her towards the cave's elevator. Barbara was too shocked and exasperated to protest. Once they were upstairs in the manor's huge kitchen, she finally managed to find her voice.

"How dare that pompous, pointy-eared, emotional-eunuch tell me how to make myself useful! First he chases me away from my own father's bedside and now he won't let me see Dick! Who, the hell, does that bastard think he is!" she hissed through tightly clenched teeth.

Alfred calmly busied himself about the kitchen, preparing tea, while she continued to vent her frustration. After several minutes of ranting, she had calmed considerably and was somewhat embarrassed by her outburst.

"I'm sorry, Alfred, it's just that sometimes I swear I want to kill that man."

"It's quite all right, My Dear, there are many times when I couldn't agree more."

"Oh, God, how do you put up with him, day after day?"

"Well, it does help that I'm British. You know, it's that whole Stiff Upper Lip thing. As a nation, we are taught to be stoic and to suffer in silence."

Barbara looked at the man's ever-so serious expression and burst out laughing. How was it that even when she was at her lowest, Alfred Pennyworth could manage to make her laugh?

"He resents me for loving Dick, doesn't he?" she said when her fit of giggles had subsided.

"I don't think it's that simple. I think he resents the love the two of you share, yes, because he has always denied it of himself. He expects Dick to do the same, even as he hopes for Dick to have a normal life. And even as he resents your love, I think he is jealous of it as well. Master Bruce lives a very dichotomous life and his reactions to the world very much reflect his struggle to reconcile the two halves of that life."

"Bruce's views vs. Batman's views."

"Precisely… I think, in this instance there is the added complication of the Father's view. On some deep level, I think he views you as the woman who is trying to steal away his little boy. As you well know, Master Bruce can also be quite possessive."

"Oh, please!" Barbara snorted. But seeing that the butler was completely serious, she stopped laughing. It was not an angle she had considered before and she found that it made her distinctly uncomfortable. It was just too, damn, normal.

"I think, perhaps, if we let Batman have his time with Nightwing, eventually, Bruce Wayne will allow you to see Dick. So, why don't we just drink our tea and wait."

"Right, wait," she said softly. She had long harbored questions about Bruce's dual personalities, but she had never voiced them aloud. No one did. She found it most interesting that it would be Alfred who would be the first to do so.

* * *

Three days later, Barbara sat by Dick's bedside. As Alfred had predicted, Bruce had relented and allowed her to see Dick and stay by his side. But there had been no change. They had removed his uniform and he now lay in the bed naked, blankets pulled up to his chest and an IV tube in one arm. Other than being a bit pale, he didn't even look sick. He looked like he was just sleeping. Barbara kept expecting that any moment he would open those brilliant blue eyes and flash her one of his kilowatt smiles and melt her into her chair, but he didn't.

"How is he?" Leslie asked, coming over to join Barbara.

"The same."

Sitting down in the empty seat on the other side of the bed, Leslie picked up Dick's hand, caressing it with the backs of her fingers and praying for some kind of a response.

"I don't know what to do anymore," she said softly. "I've tried everything and nothing has made a difference. He has no injuries; all his vital signs are good. There is no reason for him to be comatose… There is nothing more I can do for him… I'm not a psychiatrist. This is not my area. This is something completely beyond me. I tried to suggest a psychiatrist, or even a neurologist, to Bruce, but he wouldn't hear of it."

"Of course not," Barbara said bitterly, "that might mean someone else finding out his precious secret. He'll sacrifice Dick just to protect his identity."

Leslie was silent for a moment.

"No, I don't think that's what this is about," she said. "I think Bruce doesn't want to consult anyone else because he's comfortable with the way things are."

"What! You're saying you think Bruce is happy that Dick's in a coma?"

"No, I didn't say he was happy, I said he was comfortable. Think about it, Barbara, Dick hasn't suffered any injury. Therefore, there's no reason to believe that he's in any pain. Essentially he's just sleeping. And as long as he stays asleep, he stays out of danger. As soon as he recovers, he'll return to his life on the streets, both as Nightwing and as a Bludhaven police officer and there won't be a damn thing Bruce can do about it. At least this way, Bruce can keep an eye on him and he doesn't have to worry."

"Great, Bruce is content to have Sleeping Beauty for a son. Where does that leave us? Or Dick, for that matter?"

"I'm sure he'll come to his senses, Barbara. Just give him a little time."

"How much time does Dick have?"

"Well, so long as his condition doesn't deteriorate and we continue to feed him intravenously, he could stay like this indefinitely."

"Great."

"Frankly, I doubt that a psychiatrist could even help him. In order to help him, they would have to be able to reach him and therein lays all our problems. No one can reach him, except for, maybe, Jonathon Crane."

"Wait, … Crane may not be the only one," Barbara said, her mind racing back to a conversation she and Dick had had several years ago. They had been discussing primitive healing practices and he had told her about Romany shaman-healing beliefs. Abruptly turning her chair around, she headed out of the medical bay toward her Hummer.

"Barbara, wait! Where are you going?" Leslie called after her.

"I have an idea. I'll get back to you."

* * *

After spending nearly an hour on the phone with Harry Haley, Dick's partner in ownership of The Haley Bros. Circus, she stood before the modest brownstone apartment that Haley claimed was the home of the now-retired Lilya Menschel, Gramma Lilya, as Dick always referred to her. In her prime, Menschel had been a fortune-teller for the circus' sideshows and, according to Dick, she was a practicing _chovihani_, a Romany healer.

Barbara heaved a sigh of relief that the house did not have a front stoop, as most of the houses on this street did. Wheeling herself up to the front door, she rang the buzzer. It was a warm, sunny, early spring afternoon and the door was open, a screen door closed to keep the insects out.

After a few moments Barbara heard a voice call from within the house, "Come in!"

Pulling the screen door open and maneuvering herself over the threshold, she found herself in a small, tidy, sparsely furnished sitting room. There was very little in the way of decorations, although there was a beautiful, brightly colored quilt draped across the back of a small sofa.

"Hello? Mrs. Menschel?" Barbara called out. "My name is Barbara Gordon. Did Mr. Haley call and tell you that I was coming?"

"Yes, he did." A short, plump woman said, entering the sitting room. The woman was dressed in a long, flowing, black skirt with a bright, purple silk blouse over it. She wore several large, gaudy rings on her big-knuckled fingers and large dangling, gold earrings that jingled musically when she moved her head. While the hair, that she wore swept up in a loose bun, was obviously dyed black and her face was heavily lined, she had such an aura of youth and vitality that Barbara found it difficult to guess the woman's true age. Overall she didn't seem particularly grandmotherly at all.

"So, you're Barbara. Dick has told me all about you," the woman said, her words flavored by a faint, indistinct eastern European accent. "You're just as beautiful as he said you were."

"Oh, thank you. You still keep in touch with Dick?"

"Oh, yes. He stops by all the time. It's why I decided to retire to Gotham City, to be close to him… But enough about that, come Dear, let's go into the kitchen and I'll make you some tea. I have some water boiling."

Without waiting for a response, the woman turned and disappeared back through the doorway she had entered from. Barbara had no choice but to follow. She didn't really want any tea. She just wanted her questions answered so that she could get back to Dick as quickly as possible. With a sigh, she wheeled her chair through the doorway after Lilya. She was now in a small kitchen that looked as if it hadn't been updated since the late fifties. Every surface and appliance was spotlessly clean, just out of date. Lilya was just setting out a plain white teacup and saucer at a small table. She had moved one of the chairs off to the side so that Barbara could roll her wheelchair right up to the table.

"Uh, Mrs. Menschel, did Mr. Haley explain to you why I was looking for you?"

"Please, Dear, call me Gramma, everyone does," the woman said, her back to Barbara as she fussed with the tea. "And yes, he said that Dick is ill?"

"Well, actually, he's in a coma and the doctor doesn't know how to wake him. Dick told me once that you are a … _chovihani_? I thought, maybe you could do something for him?"

Lilya turned and filled the younger woman's cup with tea.

"Do you need milk or sugar, Dear?" she asked.

"Oh, no, this is fine, thank you."

Turning back to face her numerous cupboards, the older woman began mumbling to herself, "Now, where did I put that? I know it's here in the kitchen…"

Barbara watched the woman rummage through her cupboards, looking for something. The woman had not answered her question. Had she not heard? Barbara wondered if she should repeat herself. She was growing more agitated by the moment. With a sigh, she took a resigned sip of her tea and was somewhat surprised to find that it was quite good, a nice, full-bodied blend.

"Tell me, Dear, does it have a name?" the woman asked over her shoulder, still rummaging.

"Excuse me, does what have a name? Dick's condition?"

"No, Dear," Lilya said with a chuckle, "your chair."

"Excuse me? A name? … You mean the brand name? Uh, I'm sorry, I don't remember it."

"No, Dear, a name that you've given it."

"It's a wheelchair, why would I name it?"

Lilya paused in her search for a moment to glance at her guest.

"Well, it's a part of you, a very important part. Why shouldn't it have a name?"

Barbara wasn't sure what the woman was getting at and wondered if perhaps she was being mocked. Some part of her felt that she should be offended, yet surprisingly, she wasn't. She was beginning to wonder if the woman wasn't senile. What did Barbara's wheelchair have to do with Dick?

"It's an inanimate object. It doesn't have any feelings," she said.

"You shouldn't be too quick to dismiss it. Like it or not, that chair is a part of you now. It is only when we embrace our weaknesses that we become truly whole. Until you learn to embrace your chair as a part of yourself, it will always be dead weight, just like your legs."

Utterly stunned, but again, oddly not offended, by this disturbingly frank assessment of herself, Barbara sat quietly, digesting this advice. No one had ever spoken to her so bluntly about her disability. Most people avoided talking about it altogether; many avoided even looking at her.

"Ah, here we are!" Lilya cried out, interrupting Barbara's thoughts. "All right, my Dear, I'm ready. We can go now."

"Go?" Barbara asked.

"Yes Dear, we're going to see Dick, aren't we? So, I can heal him."

"Oh, uh, right…I'll meet you out front. I just need to make a quick phone call."

Barbara quickly wheeled herself out of the kitchen and out the front door. Getting herself situated back in the Hummer, she grabbed her cell phone. Oh God, she thought, Bruce is going to kill me. What am I going to say? He doesn't even know I came here. Taking a deep breath, she dialed the number for the manor and prayed that Alfred would be the one to answer.

"Good afternoon, Wayne Manor."

Barbara had never felt so relieved to hear that cultured British accent.

"Alfred, thank God, is Bruce around?"

"No, I'm sorry, Miss Gordon, Master Bruce went in to the office today. I'm sure if you were to call there, you could catch him."

"No, I don't want to catch him. I need you to do me a favor."

"Yes?"

"Do you think you and Leslie could move Dick upstairs to his old bedroom? I think I've found someone that can help him, but she's … out of the loop, if you know what I mean?"

"I see and I take it that Master Bruce is unaware that you have spoken to this person?"

"Exactly. Alfred, I don't know why, but something in my gut says that this woman can help. Please…"

There was a slight pause, before the butler answered. "We will be waiting for you upstairs."

"Thank you, Alfred."

* * *

Arriving at Wayne Manor, Barbara and Lilya found Dick comfortably situated in his old bedroom, in his old bed. His IV stand and some of the monitors had been brought up as well. Barbara wondered briefly how Alfred and Leslie had managed to get him up from the cave. She wouldn't have thought the elderly butler strong enough to carry the muscular young man, but then, Alfred was continually surprising her. When it came to the men in his charge, there was very little that the butler couldn't accomplish.

Barbara quietly explained who Lilya was to Alfred and Leslie as the Romany healer went to the bed and briefly examined Dick. After a few minutes Lilya came to stand with them near the doorway.

"How long has he been like this?" she asked after Barbara had introduced her.

"Three days now," Leslie answered.

"And this condition was brought on by an illness?"

The other three exchanged uncomfortable glances, not sure how to explain. Barbara was about to respond, when she saw Bruce standing in the doorway. He did not look happy.

"What's going on here? Who is this woman and why is she in my house?" he demanded.

"I am Lilya Menschel and I am an old friend of Dick's," she answered calmly, clearly not intimidated by the large man who easily towered over her. "I am a _chovihani_ and I came to try and help him. You must be Bruce Wayne."

"You're a what?"

"A _chovihani_, a Romany healer."

"I see. You must be a friend from Dick's circus days. How did you find out that he was ill?"

"I told her," Barbara spoke up. "And I brought her here."

"Did you? May I have a word with you in the hallway, please?" Despite the polite words, there was a definite edge to Bruce's tone.

Barbara followed him out to the hallway. When they were a few feet from the doorway, he turned to face her.

"How dare you bring a stranger into this house without my permission," he hissed quietly.

"Don't worry, she didn't see anything, she doesn't know anything. We both know that's not what you're really upset about anyway. You're mad because I made a decision without you. And I'm sorry that I went behind your back, but I got tired of sitting around waiting for you to decide to help Dick."

"Are you suggesting that I don't want to help my own son?" he asked quietly, his voice dangerous.

"Consciously, yes, you want to help him. Subconsciously, I'm not so sure."

The two simply stared at each other for a long, tense moment before Bruce finally turned away and started down the hallway.

"I'll be downstairs," he called over his shoulder.

Barbara gave a sigh of relief and returned to the bedroom. The three older people turned to look at her as she came into the room.

"Well?" Leslie asked.

Barbara shrugged. Turning to Lilya, she said, "Can you help him?"

"Yes, and no."

"What do you mean?"

"Yes, I think my people's healing techniques can help him, but I do not think that I am the person to do this."

"Why not? You are the only person I know who can do this."

"There are many secrets in this house," Lilya said softly. "I can hear them whispering all around me, all around Dick, around you. In order for me to heal him, I would most certainly be exposed to those secrets. I don't think that I would be welcome. We Romany respect the secrets of others. We understand their values. I will not go where I am not welcome."

"Then you won't help us?"

"I did not say that … How do I explain Romany healing? It is a journey … It is similar to your Native American practices. It is a shamanic journey, into the Otherworld, a journey that anyone can make, once shown the way. I do not need to make this journey, you can."

"Me? Why me?"

"You are the woman he loves. Who better than you?"

"Uh, I-I don't know if I can do this," Barbara said uncomfortably, glancing down at her chair.

"Do not worry, Child, this is a journey of the mind, of the spirit. It will not require the use of your legs."

"Well, I guess, I don't understand. You said that I would be journeying to the Otherworld? I thought that was like … Heaven?"

"It is, but we Romany believe that we all carry Heaven around inside of us. It is what connects us to our ancestors, our memories, our dreams, and to all other living things. It is within each of us, within our souls. I will show you how to use the pathways of the Otherworld to reach Dick's soul and heal him."

"How will I heal him? I don't have any medical training."

"You will not need any. You will know what to do when the time comes."

"But what if I don't know what to do?"

"Trust me, you will," Lilya said with a smile. "Just do whatever seems appropriate."

"Okay, so, how do I get to this Otherworld?"

"You must journey within. I will show you how. I take it, that this means that you are willing to make the journey? I feel, I must warn you, it may be very difficult and there may be much hardship."

"Well, if you really think that I can help Dick, then, yes, I'll go."

"My dear Child, I think you may be the only one he would allow to help him."

* * *

Lilya showed Barbara how to enter the Otherworld through a trance-like state, induced through self-hypnosis. After practicing entering into and coming out of this state several times, Lilya decided that Barbara was ready to attempt the journey.

"I will go with you at first to help you get started," Lilya said. "I want you to enter your trance. When you have reached the proper state, I want you to picture in your mind a vast evergreen forest, ancient and silent. Picture yourself beside a deep, fast river. Go and I will meet you there."

Alfred and Leslie each gave her a kiss and a hug for luck then stepped back to allow her to concentrate. Taking a deep breath, Barbara did as she was told, focusing her eyes on the green blips of the EKG machine that was monitoring Dick's heart rate. She allowed the machine's flashing light and soft beeps to lull her into her trance. Gradually the rhythmic mechanical pulse faded and was replaced by the sound of rushing water and the sharp scent of pine needles. Opening her mind's eye, she found herself in the evergreen forest that Lilya had described. The river lay before her, at the bottom of a steep slope. Gazing across the river to the opposite bank, Barbara could see nothing, only a thick, white mist that obscured everything. Hearing the slight crunch of footsteps on dead pine needles, she turned to see Lilya approaching her. The elderly Romany healer smiled.

"Well done, Child. This is as far as I will go with you. Once you cross over this river, you will enter the Otherworld."

"That's the Otherworld?" Barbara asked, gesturing to the mist-shrouded bank. "It doesn't look like there's much there."

"The mist and the river are symbolic barriers that separate one world from the next, once you have crossed the river, the mist will dissipate."

"How am I supposed to get across?"

Lilya gestured toward the water and a small canoe seemed to appear from nowhere to float of its own power over to their side of the river. It stopped parallel to Barbara's position and remained there, despite the river's swift current, like a hummingbird hovering in midair. Barbara looked at the narrow craft, bobbing in the water, waiting for her at the bottom of the slope then looked back at the older woman, incredulous.

"You have got to be kidding! How am I supposed to get into that?" the younger woman said, gesturing to her wheelchair.

"You will stand and walk."

"Excuse me? You told me I wouldn't need the use of my legs."

"We are no longer in the physical world. Its rules do not apply here. This is the world of the mind. The only limitations you have here are the one's you place on yourself. You do not need that chair here. Now, stand and walk."

"I can't," Barbara whispered, angry tears stinging the corners of her eyes.

Lilya sighed and crossed her arms over her chest.

"I am disappointed in you. Dick told me that you were strong and courageous. I guess, he was wrong, as was I. I see now that your mind is as paralyzed as your legs. A pity, you had such potential."

The healer turned and started to walk away. Barbara's frustrated tears burned molten trails down her cheeks and she felt as if the air entering her lungs was tinged with ash. She gasped for clear air and thought her chest might burst with the effort of containing her fury.

"You want to see me humiliate myself! Is that it!" she yelled at the retreating figure. "Fine!"

Leaning down to take her feet off the foot rests and, grasping the arms of the chair in a painful death grip, she pushed herself up. But, to her utter amazement, instead of immediately collapsing to the ground, her legs held. She was standing, alone and unaided. She looked down quickly to verify that this was indeed the case. Yes, she was standing! Holding her breath, afraid that even breathing might break the spell, she willed her right leg to move. Numb with awe, she watched as her foot moved forward a few inches. She moved the left leg to join it. She was walking! She looked up at Lilya, her anger forgotten. Tears of pure joy now streamed freely down her face.

"H-how is this possible?" she breathed.

"Here, anything is possible, if you have the will to make it so," Lilya answered returning to the younger woman's side. "Reality is yours for the shaping. A strong mind and a fierce determination will take you much further than any physical strength ever could, remember this."

Barbara nodded. "So, what happens now?" she asked, wiping her face with her hands and trying to compose herself. She reminded herself that Dick's life was still in her hands.

"Now, the hard part begins. Once you cross the river, as soon as you step onto the other bank, you will be in the Otherworld. Then you must find your way to Dick's soul."

"How do I do that?"

"You will know."

"Right," Barbara said with a sigh. "Assuming I find my way to Dick's soul, then what?"

"You find him, and you bring him back with you."

"And I suppose I'll just know how to find him, right?"

"You will find help along the way. You will also find obstacles. And you must remember, while you are in Dick's mind, he will provide the landscape and, most likely, he will provide the help, but it is your journey, you will provide the obstacles."

"O-kay," the younger woman said hesitantly, not really understanding what all that was supposed to mean.

"Don't worry, Child," Lilya said, grasping Barbara's shoulders and giving them a reassuring squeeze, "you will do just fine. I have every confidence in you."

"Thanks, I'm glad one of us does."

Giving the older woman what she hoped was a confident smile, Barbara squared her shoulders and started down the slope toward the waiting canoe. It was slow going at first, her body still awkward with its renewed mobility. Climbing carefully into the small craft, she looked around for a paddle, but there wasn't one.

Great, now what? She thought to herself. Okay, strong will, fierce determination.

"Take me to the other side," she said aloud in her best approximation of Batman's Voice.

The canoe slid smoothly away from the bank, turned and headed toward the opposite bank. As Lilya had predicted, the mist began to thin considerably as the small craft eased slowly up to the grassy bank and came to a stop. Barbara climbed out and made her way up the slope. At the top of the rise, the landscape was much the same as it had been on the other side, a deep evergreen forest and a brilliant, blue sky high overhead. Turning to glance back across the river, she could no longer see Lilya as that side was now obscured by mist.

Turning back to her task, Barbara saw that there was a wide path not far in front of her. Walking over to it, she found herself facing a crosspath, where the main path branched off into several new directions. How was she to know which path to take? She had no idea which way to go to find her way to Dick's soul. She turned herself around in a complete circle, looking for some kind of sign or clue to point her in the right direction, but there was nothing. She was starting to feel the beginning sensations of panic prickling up her newly awakened spine. Lilya had said that she would know where to go, but she didn't. Dick was counting on her and she was going to fail him before she had even really begun her journey. What would happen if she didn't find him? Would she be doomed to spend the rest of her life in a trance-state while her mind wandered, lost, on the paths of the Otherworld? And what would happen to Dick?

As her panic was about to reach its peak, she became aware of the muffled thumps of horse's hooves on dirt and the slight creak and rattle of a wooden wagon. Not sure from which direction the sound was coming from, she wondered briefly if she should step off the path and hide. She had no idea what kind of dangers there were in this place. But before she had made up her mind, a horse-drawn wagon lumbered out of the woods into the clearing where she stood.

She was somewhat surprised to see that it was a Gypsy caravan. It's curved, barrel-shaped roof and bright, intricately painted exterior making it instantly recognizable. Seated at the front of the wagon was a young couple dressed in old-fashioned clothing. They were both dark-haired and very attractive. The man was dressed in dark pants and vest with a white, collarless shirt. The woman wore a long dark green skirt with a short, fitted brown jacket. She had a light blue shawl draped loosely over her head and shoulders.

As the wagon slowly drew alongside Barbara, the woman turned to look at her. The woman's eyes were an unexpected, surprising blue. Barbara was startled. She had seen those eyes before… They were Dick's eyes. Glancing over at the man, she saw that he was smiling at her and he had Dick's dimples.

My God, Barbara thought, comprehension dawning, these are Dick's parents! She remembered Lilya saying that the Otherworld connected the Gypsies with their ancestors. She felt a strange sort of awe fill her. The woman Barbara now knew to be Mary Grayson looked at her and nodded.

The wagon did not stop, but continued on its deliberate way down the path. Realizing that this was the sign she had been looking for, Barbara followed along behind, surprisingly having no trouble keeping up with the horse-drawn wagon. She didn't know how long they traveled through the quiet forest. It could have been minutes or it could have been days, she had lost all sense of time. Gradually she became aware of the sounds of people, voices shouting and children laughing, coming from somewhere nearby. The caravan in front of her slowed to a halt. She moved around to the front to stand beside Mary Grayson.

"This is where we leave you," Mary said, smiling. "Just follow that path. It will take you to Dick."

She pointed to where the path branched off toward the east.

"Thank you for helping him," she continued softly. "He needs you. Bruce just can't be there for Dick the way that he needs it. Bruce just isn't ready for this journey. I'm glad that you are. Thank you again."

"Yes, thank you," John Grayson said, leaning forward.

"You're welcome," Barbara said softly.

She stepped back and waved as the wagon began to pull away. She felt a warm glow infuse her body as the handsome couple smiled and returned her wave.

Turning to head down the path that Mary had indicated, Barbara found that she was heading toward the sound of the voices. After several minutes of walking, the trees began to thin out and she found herself entering a large, open field. Huge, red and white striped tents had been set up on the field and exotic animals from all over the world were being led around by handlers in colorful and fanciful costumes. Clowns chased each through the crowds of people and children shrieked with delight at their antics.

Barbara felt as if she had stepped back in time, to the turn of the twentieth century. The people were all dressed in clothes from that time period. The women were in long, corseted dresses, the men in suits with high collars and spats on their shoes. The little girls wore bright spring dressed with bows in their hair and white stockings, while the boys wore knee britches and suspenders. It was a Norman Rockwell painting come to life. Like walking in a dream, Barbara drifted towards the tents, soaking in the atmosphere. As she drew closer, she noted a man in a red tail coat with a black top hat standing on a painted box, shouting at the crowd through a megaphone.

"Step right up, Ladies and Gentlemen. In a few moments you are about to witness the most incredible feats of aerial acrobatics ever performed. The Fabulous Flying Graysons are about to perform their death-defying trapeze act. You will see the youngest Grayson, Richard, perform his famous quadruple somersault. He is one of only four people in the known world capable of this feat and he is only nine years old! You do not want to miss this show!"

Smiling, Barbara headed toward the largest of the tents. As she drew close a large, muscular man in the rough work clothes of a roustabout stepped forward to pull back the heavy tent flap for her.

Tipping his hat to her, he said, "Hurry now, Miss, you don't want to be late for the show."

Stepping from the dazzling sunlight into the shadows of the tent, she was temporarily blinded. She could see nothing around her at all, but there was a light up ahead. Groping her way towards it, she abruptly stepped outside into an entirely different landscape. The crowds were gone, as was the sunshine. The sky was a dull, lead gray and this landscape was one of early winter when everything is brown and dead, waiting for the snow. A slight silvery frost coated the ground.

Confused, Barbara whirled around to see only the back side of the circus tent, there was no longer an opening. She could not go back the way she had come. Glancing down, she saw that somehow she was no longer wearing the clothes that she had been wearing only moments ago. She was now wearing gray, quilted, cloth leggings, tucked into tall boots. Over this she wore a quilted tunic, a knee-length, chain mail hauberk, and a dark gray surcoat emblazoned with a yellow insignia shaped like a bat. A long blue cape completed her ensemble. She noted with surprise that an impressive sword hung from the belt at her waist.

Gazing around at the deserted, blighted landscape, she realized that this was Dick's soul. She had entered it through the circus tent, without even realizing that she had done so. What did this mean? What was the significance of the strange costume that Dick seemed to have clothed her in? Why was everything so bleak? Was this a sign of illness? Did this mean that his condition was more serious than they realized? Filled with a sudden sense of renewed urgency, Barbara started off, moving away from the sad, empty circus grounds.

She had no idea where she was going, but she knew that standing around wasn't going to help her. She was reasonably confident now, that something would come along to point her in the right direction. As she walked she would occasionally see exotic and out of place animals wandering aimlessly. A small herd of elephants, with colorful ribbons and tassels adorning their tusks and tails shuffled slowly past her. Sad-faced clowns sat along side the path staring despondently at their ridiculously oversized shoes. An abandoned calliope sat in a field, almost completely obscured by tall weeds, its paint flaking, its silent organ pipes rusted.

All the color and vibrancy seemed to have been drained out of the landscape, leaving everything dull and brownish, like the sepia washed tones of old-fashioned photographs. She had been walking for quite some time and, other than the clowns she had passed early on, she had not seen another person. Was she headed the right way? She had felt so much more confident that she would find a clue earlier. Now she wasn't so sure. Shouldn't she have seen something by now? She stopped and stood looking around, hoping that perhaps she had just overlooked something.

"Don't tell me that you're losing faith already?" a harsh, nasal voice said from behind her.

Barbara gasped and whirled around. She was embarrassed that she hadn't heard anyone approach her. Standing directly behind her, less than a yard away was the strangest looking woman Barbara had ever seen. She stood no more than three feet tall, with a head that looked entirely too large for her small body. She had a very prominent hooked nose and small, squinty dark eyes. She was dressed in much the same "peasant" style that Mary Grayson had been and held a long, clay pipe clenched tightly between her teeth. She puffed on the pipe furiously, blowing up a thick cloud of smoke and glared up at the other woman.

"Excuse me?" Barbara asked, taken aback by this grotesque and belligerent creature.

"There is no excuse for you," the woman snapped. "What are you doing standing around? Put those useless legs of yours to work. Kivo needs you!"

For a moment it was all Barbara could do to keep herself from drawing the sword at her side and hacking the ugly little woman's head off. When she had gained control of her temper and could speak without screaming, she simply asked, "Who is Kivo?"

"Kivo!" the woman yelled, gesturing broadly around her. "You know, the one you're supposed to be helping. Or did we forget about him already? What the hell was Lilya thinking when she sent you? You don't need a guide, you need a babysitter!"

"Wait! You're my guide?"

"No, I'm Britney Spears, don't you recognize me?" she snapped caustically.

"What are you, some kind of psychopathic gnome with PMS?"

"I'm a _biti folki_, a fairy to you _gadje_. Gee, and I thought you were supposed to be some sort of genius or something."

"You're a fairy? Where are your wings?"

"Where's your wheelchair?" the woman sneered.

Barbara closed her eyes and started counting silently, trying to keep her temper in check. If it weren't for the fact that she desperately needed this nasty little creature's help…

"Okay," she said at last, "if you're supposed to by my guide… Then guide me!"

"Fine. Right this way, Princess Cripple."

Barbara gritted her teeth, suppressing a groan, and followed behind the little woman. They walked in strained silence for nearly an hour before Barbara's curiosity overcame her reluctance to engage the woman in conversation.

"Why do you call Dick, Kivo?" she asked hesitantly.

"Because that's his name," the sneer in the woman's voice was not nearly so noticeable this time. "His true name."

"What do you mean, his true name?"

The woman gave an exasperated sigh, as though this was the most inane question in the world, but, at the moment, Barbara's curiosity was too piqued for her to take offense.

"All Romany have at least two names," the woman answered. "One is the name that they use in the _gadje_ world, it being the name on their birth certificates. It's their 'official' name, if you will. Many, also have a name that they use only within their own Romany community. All Romany also have a true name… You see, the Romany believe that names have power. To know the true name of something, is to have power over that thing. With people, only a particular individual and his mother know this name. It simply comes to the mother while she's in labor. It represents the child's soul. Later, when the child is old enough, the mother will whisper the name in his ear, so that he will know his own soul. This name is never spoken aloud in the Realworld, lest any demons that may be listening gain power over the child's soul."

"So, that's why Lilya thought I should name my wheelchair," Barbara mused out loud.

"No shit, Sherlock!" the fairy woman snapped. "Wow, maybe there's a brain under all that hair after all, maybe you're not just a broken Barbie Doll… Get it, Barbie Doll?"

"Just shut up and lead!"

Again they walked in silence. They were approaching a large wooded area. The trees here were mostly broadleaf, although their leaves had all fallen, long ago. The forest floor was thick with a brown, crunchy carpet of dead leaves that rustled loudly around their feet. They trudged on for nearly another hour before the trees began to thin and they entered a very large clearing. In the center of the clearing was a huge, towering oak tree. Its truck was easily several hundred feet in diameter. Nestled in the huge branches high in the air was a large tree house, or tree castle would be a much more appropriate term. It appeared to be made entirely of wood and it was integrated so completely with the branches and the leaves that it seemed to be a living extension of the tree itself. It was as if, through some sorcery, the tree itself had been induced to grow into the fanciful shape of a castle, complete with delicate towers and open window casements.

"Well, here we are," the fairy woman announced.

"This is where Dick is?"

"No, I just thought I would lead you two hours in the complete opposite direction, just so that you could gawk stupidly at the view."

"Okay, that's it!" Barbara said, finally letting her temper loose. "I have had just about enough of your sarcasm. I have been nothing but courteous to you and yet you have done nothing but insult and ridicule me. Yes, I have a disability, but that does not make me any less of a person than you. And just because my legs no longer work, does not mean that there's anything wrong with my brain. I am intelligent and well educated and I am a valuable member of society. I do not have to take this crap from you or anyone else!"

A slow smile spread across the homely face of the little fairy woman.

"No, Child, you do not," she said softly. "And never, ever forget that."

With a sly wink, the little woman turned and disappeared back into the forest, leaving Barbara standing open-mouthed with confusion and shock. Her anger abruptly gone, she was left feeling elated and somewhat shaken. Smiling, she gave her head a slight shake and turned back to the towering oak.

Her next dilemma was how to get up to the castle. She could see no stairway or ladder or opening in the tree trunk, or anything that might help her. The lowest branch was hundreds of feet beyond her reach and the trunk, although rough, didn't offer any hand or foot holds. She walked all the way around the tree, but saw nothing different. Glancing back to the forest, she wondered if she might be able to use her sword to cut down a tree and make a ladder. She quickly dismissed the idea, it would take entirely too long and she doubted the sword would hold up under such use.

God, why does everything have to be so difficult in this place? She thought. She was about to start another circuit around the tree in case she had missed something, when she saw a large, faint shadow moving across the clearing toward her. Looking up, she saw, silhouetted against the anemic, winter sun, a large bat-like creature. It had a very hairy human body with arms that extended into flesh covered bat wings. The creature circled the tree a couple of times in its awkward, bat-like flight then landed on the grass not far from Barbara.

Closer up, she could see that its face was hideously ugly, with long, pointed ears and sharp, vampire-like incisors. Like its body, a large portion of its face and head were covered with coarse, dark hair. The creature was making a strange, soft hissing sound and after a moment, Barbara realized that it was laughing at her.

"Well, Girl, are you ready to give up now? Are you ready to go home with your tail tucked between your legs?" The Voice that spoke was deep and resonant with a slight rasp.

"No, I am not," Barbara said firmly, hoping she sounded more confident than she felt. "Dick needs me and I'm going to help him."

"Are you now? And how do plan to do that, when you're stuck down here, and he's up there?" the creature asked, gesturing up to the tree castle. "Come on, admit it, you don't have the faintest clue of how to get up there. Don't worry, I won't be shocked, I've always known that your intellect was no match for mine."

Ignoring him, Barbara continued to look around for something to help her.

"Ah, well," the creature sighed. "it's probably just as well, you aren't worthy of him anyway. You never were, even when you were whole. And now… It would be best if you just gave up now. You know he's only going to get bored with you and move on to someone with a little less… baggage."

"I'm here, aren't I?" she turned and snapped at the creature. "At least I'm dealing with the situation, instead of burying my emotions and ignoring the problem."

Anger flared in the creature's blue eyes.

"You aren't dealing with anything! You're prancing around accomplishing nothing! I hope you're enjoying your pseudo-legs, because when you wake up, it'll be back to the wheelchair."

Losing her temper completely, Barbara flung herself at the creature, tackling it and the two went down in a tangle of wings and limbs. The creature quickly rolled off her and up to a standing position, but she held on to one leg. Trying to shake her loose, it spread its wings and took to the sky, dragging her with it. She hung on for dear life, refusing to release him. Higher and higher he flew, but could not free himself. Thinking to lose her by dragging her along the treetop, it flew closer to the great tree. But as soon as it had gotten within a few feet, Barbara let go and stretched out to grab onto the branches. Managing to latch onto a good-sized branch, she pulled herself up and began scrabbling inward, toward the trunk, where she would be safe from the creature trying to snatch her back out.

She stopped to catch her breath when she reached the huge trunk. Glancing around to get her bearings, she saw that she was now slightly above and to the left of the castle. By carefully dropping down to the large branch just below, she was able to crawl to a position directly over an open terrace of the castle. Taking a deep breath, she dropped down onto the terrace. As she landed, she instinctively allowed her body to tuck and roll, to absorb the impact. Springing back onto her feet, she headed for the doorway that led into the castle.

The interior of the castle, like the exterior, was made completely of wood. The hallway in which she stood had no corners. The walls simply rounded into the floor and the ceiling. There were no right angles anywhere to indicate where two materials were joined. The entire structure seemed to be made of one seamless piece, as if it, indeed, had simply grown out from the tree itself. She found walking through the smooth, rounded corridors was like walking through long wooden tunnels.

Barbara passed room after room as she wandered through the seemingly endless, curved hallways, but she found no evidence of Dick's presence. At the end of the corridor she was currently walking down, she saw a staircase. Quickening her pace, she headed towards it, but from a room just to the left of the stairs, a figure suddenly emerged to block her path.

The figure was a tall, muscular woman with long, loose, dark hair. She was dressed in the greens and browns of a hunter, at her throat hung a large gold cross, and even despite the dark mask that partially covered her face, she was beautiful. She was armed with a crossbow and, spying Barbara, she raised it to fire.

Without thinking, Barbara sprinted forward, knocked the weapon aside before the woman could release her quarrel, and punched her. The "huntress" reeled back for a moment before recovering and delivering a punch of her own. Barbara blocked the punch and grabbed the woman's arm, flipping her onto her back. The woman landed with a painful grunt.

Barbara continued on to the staircase and headed up to the next floor. The stairs ended at a set of tall double doors. Opening the doors, she entered a huge ballroom. The wood of the floor was polished to a glossy shine and one entire wall was made up of row after row of floor to ceiling windows. Stepping into the impressive room, she gazed around in wonder.

Hearing a scream from behind her, she whirled around just in time to see something very large and flaming, flying straight towards her. Dropping, face down, to the floor she felt the heated backwash as the thing streaked over her. Looking up, she saw the thing land several feet in front of her. It was another woman, but this one was huge. Easily standing over six feet tall, with golden skin, pupil-less green eyes and a huge mane of, literally, flaming red "hair".

Barbara quickly climbed back to her feet, as the alien-looking, golden woman began to advance towards her. She glanced around her, looking for something to use as a weapon, something a little less lethal than the sword at her side, but the large ballroom was empty. The woman was almost within reach. Trying the same strategy she had used earlier, Barbara charged toward the golden woman. But, as she was about to deliver her punch, the golden woman simply backhanded Barbara across the ballroom as if she were a ragdoll.

Slightly stunned, Barbara struggled back up to her feet. She looked up just in time to see the woman flying straight at her again. Keeping her feet this time, Barbara braced herself. As the woman came within arms reach, Barbara grabbed onto her outstretched wrists and, using the woman's own momentum, she slung her around, redirecting her towards the wall of windows. Letting go, Barbara watched as the woman tumbled head over heals in mid-air and crashed through the windows.

Not waiting around to see if she came back, Barbara took off running toward the opposite side of the ballroom from where she had entered. Another set of double doors led out to another long corridor. Racing down the hallway she burst through the door at the end and found herself standing in a circular stairwell. Glancing up, she saw that the steps spiraled up into one of the castle's towers. Bounding up the stairs, two at a time, she eventually reached another door. Out of breath, she reached for the handle, only to find the door locked. This was the first locked door she had encountered. She took this as a good sign.

Taking a deep breath to calm her racing heart, she stepped back and kicked at the door handle, throwing all of her body weight behind her foot. With the sound of splintering wood, the door crashed open. The room she entered was large and round. There were no decorations or furnishings except for a large canopy bed with sheer bed curtains. Just beyond those curtains, Barbara could see Dick, lying, apparently sleeping peacefully, his hands folded neatly on his stomach. At the foot of the bed was a gilded birdcage hanging from a stand. The sole occupant of the cage was a small, very agitated brown and red robin. The little bird was chirping loudly and fluttering about, beating itself against the bars of the golden cage.

Relief flooded Barbara's body and she started towards the bed. She only made it to the center of the room, when she heard the sound of heavy footfalls behind her, and laughter. That sound froze her where she stood. It was a high, cackling, maniacal sound, the laughter of someone completely, irrevocably, and … happily insane. She felt her heart pounding painfully in her chest and feared for a moment that she might pass out.

Forcing herself to swallow the lump that had suddenly lodged itself in her parched throat, Barbara slowly turned around to face her nightmare. And it was so much worse than anything she had ever imagined. The creature towered over her, standing almost seven feet tall, with dead-white skin and filthy, bug-infested green hair. It had a hideous, gaping red mouth with row after row of razor-sharp teeth, like the mouth of a shark. Cackling madly, it began to advance towards her.

She stood for a moment, too frightened to even move as the creature continued to bear down on her. At last her brain kicked in and she remembered the sword at her side. She drew it just as the monster raised a claw-tipped hand to slash her. She blocked the hand with the sword and counterattacked by delivering a slash of her own to the creature's unprotected ribs. It howled in pain and came at her again, slashing furiously with both hands. She was able to deflect almost all of the blows, but one managed to overwhelm her defense. The fist came down with such force that it knocked both her and her sword across the room. She struck the wall with jarring force and felt something in her back pop. She slid to the floor, all feeling in her legs gone.

The creature moved to stand over her, laughing triumphantly. It was enjoying itself so much that it didn't notice Barbara drag herself painfully across the floor to where her sword had fallen. Turning back towards the living nightmare, she flung the sword with all of her remaining strength. The blade arced gracefully across the room to embed itself deep in the monster's chest. Shrieking in pain, it tried to pull the blade out, but only succeeded in breaking it off. A large chunk of metal still remained in the flesh. Collapsing to the floor, it writhed in agony for several minutes before finally lying still.

Exhausted, relieved and completely drained, Barbara lay her face down on the floor to rest. She would try to summon the will to stand in a moment. Right now, she just wanted to catch her breath. She wasn't sure how long she had lain there before she became aware that she was no longer alone. Opening her eyes she found the ugly bat-creature standing over her, gazing down at her with a look of utter contempt.

"So close, and yet so far," it whispered to her. The bat-creature turned to look at the other monster lying dead nearby. "You never really could face up to him. Even in death he defeats you. Now you're a cripple in this world as well."

The feeling had still not returned to her legs and Barbara feared the creature was right; she was crippled again. It wasn't fair, she thought, after everything I went through, to be defeated in the same way by the same foe… it wasn't fair.

"Even when you had the use of your legs, you were a joke," the creature continued relentlessly. "You were just a pathetic, little girl playing dress up, so desperate to join the big boys. But you were always out of your league. It was only a matter of time before you got hurt. Frankly, I was surprised you didn't get killed before that. I mean, let's face it, a 10-year-old boy was more competent than you were."

Oh God, Dick, She thought, despairing, I'm so sorry. I failed you.

The creature stepped over her prone body to walk to the bed. Barbara turned her head to watch him. He stood looking sadly at Dick lying on the bed.

"Yes, My Dear, you have failed him," the creature said, as if reading her thoughts. "As I always knew you would. I knew you would never be worthy of him."

As she watched he turned away from the bed and went to the gilded cage. Opening the small door, he reached his hand in and grabbed the robin. The little bird chirped frantically and struggled to get free from the creature's grasp. The creature turned to look at her and smiled baring its vampire-like teeth at her. It turned back to gaze at the bird, a hungry look in its eyes.

Barbara watched all of this with a growing sense of horror. The little bird was still struggling desperately. She glanced over at the bed where Dick still lay motionless, oblivious to everything. Her eyes drifted over to where the broken hilt of her sword lay a few feet away. Stretching to her limit she was just able to grasp the remains of the sword.

Remembering Lilya's words that a strong will and fierce determination would take her further than physical strength, Barbara drew upon every inner reserve she could tap into. Gritting her teeth, she forced herself up onto her hands and knees. Blocking out the stabbing pain that shot up her back, she climbed up to one knee and literally willed herself to stand. The bat-creature watched her with an amused expression as she began to wobble unsteadily towards him. Standing before the creature, she glared at it with pure hatred.

Glancing momentarily at the broken sword in her hand, the creature looked at her calmly, saying, "You won't do it. You don't have the guts. You're too weak. You always were."

With a slight smile, she brought the broken sword up and slashed down, severing the creature's hand at the wrist. The creature howled with pain. As the bloody hand fell to the floor, the little robin was freed and it soared into the air. It circled the room a few times, chirping happily, then darted out an open window just beyond the bed. As her eyes followed the bird's movements, they came to rest on the bed and Barbara almost sobbed with relief as she saw Dick stirring. His eyelids fluttered for a moment then opened. Slowly sitting up, he looked around somewhat confused. All of her pain forgotten, Barbara rushed to him, throwing her arms around him and kissing him soundly.

"Well, good morning," Dick said, smiling at her. He seemed none the worse for his ordeal. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm here to rescue you."

She ran her hands over his face and through his hair, trying to reassure herself that it was really Dick and he was okay. She wanted to stay like this forever, just staring into those endlessly blue eyes, but she remembered that she had to get him back to the Otherworld. He was not out of the woods just yet.

"Come on, Honey, we need to go," she said to him.

With a nod, he climbed out of the bed. He was wearing a pair of loose, linen pajama pants, but his chest and feet were bare. There was nothing she could do about his feet, but she removed her cloak and draped it over his shoulders. Taking his hand, she started to lead him out of the tower room. As they passed the bat-creature who was still kneeling on the floor clutching its wounded arm to its stomach, the creature reached its uninjured hand out toward the young man.

"Please, don't go," the creature begged softly.

Dick glanced back and hesitated. Barbara gave his arm a tug to hurry him, but he still didn't move.

"Dick, Honey, let's go," she whispered.

"No, I can't leave him like this," Dick said and gently pulled away from her.

Returning to the creature, Dick knelt in front of him and extended his wrist. The creature took the offered appendage and brought it to his mouth, sinking his sharp incisors into the vein located there. The creature drank deeply from the young man. After several minutes, it released him and Dick reeled back unsteadily.

As Barbara watched, stunned, the creature began to transform. The bat-like wings began to wither and shrink before eventually falling away. The hair on its face and body began to fall off as well, revealing healthy, pink human flesh underneath. The pointed ears and harsh lines of the face began to soften, easing into much more appealing proportions. The severed hand began to grow back.

When the transformation was complete, they found kneeling before them a tall, handsome man in his middle years, with black hair and blue eyes… Bruce, Barbara thought, relieved. The man reached out his newly regenerated hand and gently touched Dick's cheek.

"Go," Bruce whispered. "I release you. Thank you."

Dick gave a slight nod and climbed slowly to his feet. Barbara rushed forward to help steady him. The couple turned and left the tower room. As they passed by a window, Barbara could see that the landscape outside had somehow been changed to springtime. The sun shone brightly, birds were singing and everywhere, everything looked green and fresh.

Gazing out at the lush landscape, she suddenly felt a sense of vertigo. She reached to clutch at the window casement as her vision seemed to narrow and her legs turned to jelly. Blackness surrounded her as she felt herself falling…

* * *

Barbara's eyes snapped open and she sat upright with a start. She was once again sitting in her wheelchair in Dick's old bedroom in Wayne Manor. Dick was lying in his bed across from her, still comatose. Looking around, she saw Alfred and Leslie sitting together, leaning against each other, asleep. Lilya was also asleep, her head cradled in her arms, at the foot of the bed. Bruce was also there, sitting on the floor, leaning against the doorframe.

Had it all simply been a dream? She thought. Looking out the window near the bed, she saw the first pink-orange glow of dawn on the horizon. She had been out for several hours. But what exactly had happened? Glancing back at Dick's still-sleeping form, as Lilya had predicted, Barbara found that she suddenly knew exactly what to do.

Feeling very much like the prince in the Brothers Grimm story of Sleeping Beauty, she pulled herself up onto the bed and settled herself beside Dick. Leaning down, she pressed her lips to his and whispered, very softly, "Kivo, it's time to wake up."

With a soft moan, Dick's eyelids fluttered for a moment, then opened. He blinked several times, before finally focusing on Barbara. He smiled weakly at her.

"What happened?" he asked weakly.

"It's a very, very long story," she said, returning his smile.

Barbara and Lilya sat drinking tea in the kitchen of Wayne Manor. The others were still in Dick's room, fussing over the young man. Barbara was exhausted and yet she felt a peacefulness that she hadn't felt in a very long time. She felt content and, for the first time since she had become paralyzed, completely at ease within her own body.

"Alice," she said abruptly.

"Excuse me?" Lilya asked, startled out of her own reverie.

"That's what I'm going to name my wheelchair. Alice."

"It's a Greek name. It means 'truth'. An excellent choice," Lilya said, nodding.

"Oh, I didn't know that. I was just thinking of Alice in Wonderland."

Lilya smiled and gave a shrug. "That works, too."

Both women laughed.

"What exactly happened to me?" Barbara asked after a moment. "I feel so different, so … complete. How did that happen?"

"You took a healing journey. Although your intent was to seek healing for another, one cannot expect to walk the paths of the Otherworld and come away unchanged. And even though you were not able to find a means to heal your legs, you found something far more precious, the means to heal your spirit."

"Would it be possible for me to go back there?"

"Of course, Child, now that you know the way, you can go back any time that you need to. There are many paths in the Otherworld. It would take a lifetime or more to walk them all."

"I think I'd like to try," Barbara said, smiling.


End file.
